Basil

BASIL

Silent man, whiling away moments with your oils,

Toiling in tragic tapestries, weaving your demise.

Heart stars dwindle, dance, deviate. Trusting . . . ever trusting.

Misplaced certitude; circumspection not your nature.

Concealed fatality, moving under the concave cup of the world,

A red-cored lily--sensuous--quavering in sensitive blue space.

Overtaken, mastered, bested by betrayal, contested by gray.

Soul devoured by eaters of the dead;

Enslaving attachment rooted in your head. 

Too much a part of you--We covet our creations, as the best do.

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